


Strangers Here

by Fairleigh



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies), Alien Series
Genre: Back to Earth, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Post-Movie: Alien: Resurrection (1997), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: Ripley and Call get lost. In the process, they find a place to be safe . . . and they find each other.





	Strangers Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/gifts).



“A person could get pretty lost around here if they wanted to. What do you think? What should we do?” Call had asked.

They’d made landfall on the outskirts of what had — as recently as two hundred years ago — been Paris, France. Smog that choked out the sun and the creeping desertification of unchecked climate change had eventually overtaken the proud metropolis, however, and now, it was largely abandoned, crumbling back into the dust from whence it came.

She’d visited Paris as a young girl. This was not the Paris she remembered. This was not the _Earth_ she remembered.

It was easy enough, though, for Ripley to substitute experiential knowledge with deductive logic. Humanity, Ripley reflected, always had been singularly talented at taking what it wanted and leaving unmitigated disaster in its wake. No wonder they’d fled _en masse_ to cryosleep pods and countless colony worlds. Who’d want to stick around on Earth if it meant having to put up with _this_ ecological nightmare?

If only they’d been capable of learning from their mistakes. Unfortunately, nothing in Ripley’s experience had led her to believe the average human to be capable of that. To the contrary, the mistakes just seemed to become more and more and more grievous with time. Really, it was a shame.

“I don’t know,” Ripley had replied vaguely, her thoughts elsewhere. “I’m a stranger here myself.”

Her thoughts had been light-years elsewhere, so it had taken her quite a while to realize that Call had said “we” — but she did. Eventually.

~*~*~

First things first: They ditched the ship and made themselves scarce. The military was bound to be hot on the heels of its most prized asset, and Ripley was in no mood to see any of them again anytime soon.

Call had been right, as it turned out: The Earth was a big place with plenty of hidden corners. A person _could_ get pretty lost around here if they wanted to, and they had every intention of getting very, very — one might even say _comprehensively_ — lost.

They didn’t discuss it. Not in so many words. But they both knew and understood the unspoken agreement: They were still in this together. They would stick together.

Their adversaries may have had the technological advantage. Spy satellites in the sky, high-speed ground and aerial transport, more. Ripley and Call had only the eyes in their skulls and the legs on their bodies . . .

. . . but what resilient, durable bodies they were! Never underestimate a genetically engineered alien-human hybrid and a self-emancipated synthetic! They were tireless travelers; Ripley needed food and rest only sparingly, Call not at all, and they were _smart_.

They worked hard to ensure that they left no trail to follow, for they knew their enemies would not give up easily. And although they could not be certain of success, there was never any clear sign of direct pursuit as they headed north.

North, north, ever north. The direction was not chosen at random. They had a specific destination in mind.

~*~*~

Greenland.

The oceans had warmed and were no longer bountiful. Herring were damn difficult to come by, and the orca pods which had once plied the waters offshore were but ghostly legends from long ago.

Nonetheless, Greenland did, during the summer at least, live up to its name: The climate was temperate, and the land was green and relatively unspoiled. A resourceful, self-sufficient person could live a humble, quiet life here — and Ripley and Call were nothing if not resourceful and self-sufficient.

They took possession of an abandoned cottage. It was well inland, away from the unpredictable sea. There were lots to choose from. Initially, humanity had retreated towards the North and South Poles as the climate had warmed. It was only later that many decided to give up altogether on Earth and board the colony ships. How odd, it was, that two individuals who had seen the stars — who had stared into the abyss and seen its eyeless faces and ravenous mouths and acid tongues — would come to this place!

And yet, here they were.

They didn’t talk much. There was plenty to keep them busy. They gathered food and laid down stores in preparation for winter. They repaired the cottage and refreshed the furnishings. Ripley loved the bed they shared, expansive and soft and warm, so different from the claustrophobic cocoons of cryosleep.

They made love. They’d reached out for each other one night, in exactly the same moment. Neither had been the one to initiate it; they decided together. It was another unspoken agreement, an agreement that they too, two hurt, broken things, deserved the privileges of pleasure and sweetness and peace.

 ~*~*~

Winter came, and with it came the long nights and the cold.

Neither the darkness nor the freezing temperatures bothered Ripley or Call in the slightest. They were immune to such human frailties.

The military hadn’t bothered them any either, and they’d remained in this one place for over half a year already. Maybe they’d escaped detection. Maybe they’d be left alone for good. Maybe, at last, at long, long last, they were safe.

~*~*~

One night, Ripley awoke with a jolt to the sound of a crash. Call was missing; the half of the mattress beside Ripley was undisturbed.

Her fighting instincts were still razor-keen, the adrenaline rush, still heady and instantaneous. She was armed with a shotgun and out of the cottage in a heartbeat.

“Annalee?” she hissed. “Where are you?”

“Ellen?” It was Call, thank God, and her voice was clear, confident. She did not sound injured or endangered. She just sounded excited. “C’mere! You _got_ to see this!”

Ripley headed in the direction of Call’s voice and discovered her around the back of the cottage, standing in front of the demolished door to their root cellar. From inside the cellar, they could hear glass jars breaking, shelves being overturned . . . and heavy, animal grunting.

Suddenly, a head poked itself out of the cellar, and a big, shaggy white body followed. The creature turned and eyed them appraisingly, unfraid.

It was magnificent. It was _beautiful_.

A polar bear. They were being raided. By. A. Fucking. Polar. Bear.

Polar bears were thought to be extinct, but clearly they were not. This one was very, very real, a minor miracle made fur and flesh. It got up onto its hind legs and roared a challenge. Unfazed, Ripley fired her shotgun once into the air, and she and Call watched the bear retreat by the ghostly light of the aurora borealis, its gigantic body surprisingly fast and graceful for its size.

Live and let live. They’d begin cleanup and repairs in the morning.

For now, though, a simple truth: There were only monsters here, but none of them were any threat to the others, and none of them were strangers. Not anymore.


End file.
